


there’s a reason—

by always_an_anxious_mess



Category: Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ghost Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Manipulation, Other people are mentioned too but Dream has the most significant role, Schlatt might be slightly OOC, Schlatt’s not very good at comforting people but hes trying, Suicidal Thoughts, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), happy new year (i still have another two and a half hours), lmk if i need to tag anything else I’m tired, this has been in my drafts for a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28469538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_an_anxious_mess/pseuds/always_an_anxious_mess
Summary: London puts barriers on the tube line...———————There— There was a pale gray man was floating in the air, sitting on nothing.He was transparent. His hands and feet faded into soft yellow before disappearing, much like how Ghostbur’s did, except Ghostbur’s faded blue.The man wore a bright blue sweater with a small yellow heart sown on the left side. His brown hair was messy and sticking up all over the place. He had a clean shaven face, and he looked so young—That’s why it took Tommy so long to recognize him, even with the massive dark brown horns curling on either side of his head.———————Title from Wilbur Soot’s “Jubilee Line”
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 507
Collections: MCYT Fic Rec, short fics that i like





	there’s a reason—

Tommy closed his eyes and listened to the wind howl.

The tower he sat at the top of creaked and groaned in the breeze, swaying dangerously back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. The tower could collapse any minute, and make his decision for him.

Perhaps that was what he was waiting for.

His feet dangled over nothingness. He sat on the very edge of the tower. Just a few inches further forward, and he’d be falling.

The fingers on Tommy’s left hand dug into the rock of his tower, while his right clutched the compass around his neck like a lifeline. He held it so tightly that his fingers were growing numb at the tips and his knuckles were white.

It was cold up here, especially with the wind. His teeth had been chattering for several minutes, and goosebumps littered his skin. His clothes were merely dirty, tattered rags, offering no protection from the wind and the cold.

He found that he quite liked the way the cold nipped at him. It made him feel alive. Made him feel like he wasn’t dead quite yet.

Though, if all went to plan, he would be dead very, very soon.

Dream had taken two of his lives. Dream had tried to stop him from taking his last life himself. Falling now would effectively ruin whatever Dream’s plans were for him. Falling now would mean that Tommy could die on his own terms, not whenever Dream wanted him to die.

Tommy could recognize Dream’s actions these past few weeks as what they were. Manipulation. Dream was trying to gaslight him, turn him to his side. It was pathetic really, that Dream had to manipulate people into liking him.

It was even more pathetic that it almost fucking worked.

Well, it did work, slightly.

Tommy could feel the effects of what Dream had been doing. The side of him that just wanted to climb down and beg Dream for forgiveness whenever he comes back. But he couldn’t. Fuck. He couldn’t let himself do that.

If he was going to die, he was going to die on his own terms. He wasn’t going to do whatever the fuck Dream wanted him to do.

Tommy inched closer to the edge, but right as he started to slip, he pulled himself back, heart beating in his chest a mile a minute.

Why was he such a fucking coward? Why couldn’t he just DO IT. Wasn’t this what he wanted?!

Tommy choked back a sob, finding warm tears spilling down his cheeks.

He was alone. He was completely and utterly alone. Dream was a liar and a manipulated him. Ghostbur had gone fuck knows where. Phil didn’t love him. Techno betrayed and mocked him. Tubbo hated him. Ranboo—

Was Ranboo really the only one left?

No. Ranboo stopped visiting, stopped writing letters. Ranboo clearly didn’t like him either.

To be honest, Tommy was surprised Ranboo lasted as long as he did. Ranboo was a good guy, if a bit anxious, but everyone was anxious, Tommy wasn’t one to judge. He was surprised Ranboo had put up with him as long as he did.

He was surprised everyone had put up with him as long as they did. It was only a matter of time before he got thrown out, right?

“THE WALLS DON’T FUCKING LOVE YOU!” Tommy shrieked to the air, a hysterical laugh piercing the sky as tears rolled down his face. No one was around to hear him anyway. “SHOUT AT THE WALL! BECAUSE THE WALLS DON’T FUCKING LOVE YOU!”

His hysterical laughter turned into violent sobs. It was too much. It was all too fucking much. His chest heaved and he stared at the ground that so so so far beneath him with wide eyes.

“There’s a reason,” Tommy sobbed, doubling over until his chest was pressing against his thighs and squeezing his eyes shut. He didn’t even bother wiping away his tears, he couldn’t even bring himself to finish the song.

The song his brother had sang to him, before all of this. Before everything.

He couldn’t finish the fucking song.

“There’s a reason,” came a soft, raspy voice that was distinctly not his own. Tommy sat bolt upright in confusion, looking around but finding nothing but empty skies. “London puts barriers on the tube line.”

Tommy blinked, scrubbing his face with his ragged shirt sleeve and glaring angrily at the endless space around him. “Who’s there and how the FUCK are you up here?!” He demanded.

“There’s a reason,” the voice continued. “London puts barriers on the rails.”

There.

There—

There— There was a pale gray man was floating in the air, sitting on nothing.

He was transparent. His hands and feet faded into soft yellow before disappearing, much like how Ghostbur’s did, except Ghostbur’s faded blue.

The man wore a bright blue sweater with a small yellow heart sown on the left side. His brown hair was messy and sticking up all over the place. He had a clean shaven face, and he looked so young—

That’s why it took Tommy so long to recognize him, even with the massive dark brown horns curling on either side of his head.

“There’s a reason,” Schlatt continued. “They fail.”

Tommy stared at Schlatt with wide, confused eyes. Schlatt. Schlatt was here. Schlatt looked so different—

“Hey Tommy,” Schlatt sounded tired as he turned and met Tommy’s gaze. His eyes were dark, dull, and lifeless. Just like Ghostbur’s.

“You’re dead,” Tommy said with a raspy voice.

“Yup,” Schlatt agreed. “Definitely dead. I mean, I do look a lot like the shell that’s been following you around. Except he got the luxury of forgetting everything, the prick.”

“How long have you been around like this?” Tommy asked.

“Since the moment my heart stopped,” Schlatt said bitterly. “And none of you helped me. But to be honest, I deserved that kind of death. You’re the first person to see me, congrats. Not even your fuckin’ shell can see me.”

“Shell?” Tommy asked, before realizing. “You mean Ghostbur.”

“Yeah,” Schlatt shrugged. “He isn’t Wilbur. And “Ghostbur” is a dumb fuckin’ name, so I’ve been calling him “shell”.”

“You been following me around a lot, you weirdo?”

“You’re the only one with anything interesting going on.”

Tommy fell silent, his gaze turning to the ground once more as his death grip around the compass tightened even further than he thought was possible. The ground seemed so far down, so so so very far down. Just a couple inches, and a handful of seconds, and it would be so so so very close.

“You gonna jump?” Schlatt asked bluntly.

“I wouldn’t have built all the way up here if I wasn’t,” Tommy responded dryly, not looking up.

“It’s gonna hurt.”

“That’s kind of the fuckin’ point.”

“You only got one life left, don’t you?”

“Yup.”

“And you’re gonna jump.”

Tommy chuckled humorlessly, kicking his legs. “Yeah.”

Schlatt went silent again.

Then he spoke up.

“Y’know,” Schlatt commented dryly, making Tommy look up. Something about his tone just compelled Tommy to. “Wilbur sang me that song. When he was still writing it, years ago.”

“You knew Wilbur? Before all of this?” Tommy asked, confused.

“Oh yeah, we were best buds, I think, back in the day,” Schlatt grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We went through a whole lot of fucked up shit together. Out in those worlds where you have unlimited lives and you can do whatever you want. He stabbed me in the back, I stabbed him in the back. We were still friends in the end, though. We drifted apart as time went on, but there weren’t hard feelings—”

“Is this some kind of metaphor for how I should forgive everyone for everything they’ve done to me?” Tommy asked dryly, eyes narrowed and anger in his tone. “Because trust me, I want to. Some things you just can’t forgive.”

“No, you have a right to be angry,” Schlatt said, surprising Tommy. “Let me finish, kid.”

Tommy kept his mouth shut.

“They’re weren’t hard feelings, but look where it got us,” Schlatt pointed out. “Wilbur’s a fuckin’ shell of what he once was. No one can see me. We’re both DEAD, and even before we died we had become enemies. A far stretch from what we used to be.”

Tommy sighed, looking away and back towards the ground.

“You and Tubbo,” Tommy tensed at Schlatt’s words. “The both of you remind me a lot of me and Wilbur back in the day. Except without the constant killing and betraying each other.”

“Me and Tubbo are NOTHING like you and Wilbur,” Tommy spat, bristling.

“You’re right,” Schlatt agreed, turning and giving Tommy a sad smile. “You’re better.”

Tommy’s anger faded quickly, leaving him just stunned.

“You and Tubbo...” Schlatt trailed off, looking as if he was trying to decide how to say his next words. “You both are just... not pure or innocent, but— You both are the best of us, kid. Over and over again the both of you proved to everyone that you were more capable and responsible than anyone else in this fucked up world. The both of you have been through hell over and over again, yet you still put others before yourselves.”

“And look where that got us,” Tommy muttered. “Me at the top of a tower, waiting for death. Tubbo leading a broken and dying nation.”

“It’s not too late—”

“IT IS TOO LATE!” Tommy snapped, scrubbing tears that were pouring from his eyes. “After everything I’ve done,” he sobbed. “After everything I’ve been through, I’m going to die at the bottom of this tower. Like fuckin’ Theseus in that stupid fuckin’ story, dying alone, hated by the people I love.”

Schlatt was silent for a few moments as Tommy cried, still floating off to the side of the tower.

“I have to die here,” Tommy insisted, though Schlatt hadn’t tried to protest. “I can’t let Dream take my last life. I can’t. I won’t be a pawn in his fucking games. I won’t let him use me anymore. If I die here, I win.”

“Do you?” Schlatt asked.

Tommy furrowed his brows and looked up towards the ram-hybrid, who had at some point floated around until he was hovering directly in front of Tommy.

“Do you win if you die here?” Schlatt repeated.

Tommy wasn’t sure what he meant. “I...” he trailed off, looking away.

“Who’s to say that this isn’t what Dream WANTS you to do?” Schlatt demanded.

Tommy kept his eyes on the ground, but then he felt a hand grip his chin and force his head to tilt upwards. His immediate, instinctual reaction was to cower, another effect of Dream’s manipulation that he oh so desperately wanted to shed.

Schlatt stared at him with his dark eyes, with no emotion in them, but anger on his face.

“Dream is a manipulative bastard, Tommy,” Schlatt hissed. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t much better in my time. I’ve done a lot of things that fucked you over. But damn me to the nether if I’m just going to let you kill yourself like this. How do you know he doesn’t want you to jump off this tower?”

Tommy trembled, his thoughts running together in a blur of _don’t make him angry don’t piss him off please don’t hit me I’ll be good I promise—_

“Look what he’s done to you,” Schlatt pointed out. “Look at what you’ve become because of him. Where’s the TommyInnit who screamed in my face when I exiled him? Who cheered at my death? Who celebrated as people robbed my grave?”

“He’s gone,” Tommy croaked.

“No, he isn’t,” Schlatt corrected him. “Dream tried to kill him, he’s trying to kill him now, but he’s still in there with you. Don’t let Dream win, Tommy. Take that annoying, arrogant, defiant side of you by the horns and don’t let Dream win.”

“I can’t,” Tommy closed his eyes and flinched backwards. “I can’t. I’m not strong enough. I can’t trust myself to do that, Schlatt. I can’t.”

“Then find someone who you can trust.”

“It’s not that simple!” Tommy felt anger rise in him again, shaking away the sticky threads of Dream’s manipulation that had made him cower. He grabbed Schlatt’s hand and pulled it away from him, forcing the other man to let go of his chin. “I don’t have anyone LEFT, Schlatt! Techno would kill me the first chance he gets. Wilbur’s, as you said yourself, a shell of what he used to be. Phil doesn’t love me anymore. Tubbo hates me. Ranboo— Big Q— Fundy— they all just pity me. I don’t have anyone left.”

Schlatt was grinning at him, in a way that made Tommy feel like he was missing something. “You’re wrong.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, you’re wrong,” Schlatt repeated himself. “I know for a fact that the enderman hybrid, that Ranboo kid, he’s done nothing but try to be your friend.”

“He pities me,” Tommy snapped.

“He feels indebted to you,” Schlatt corrected him. “You saved him a hell of a lot of trouble by claiming you burned that British prick’s house on your own. I know for a fact that you have a place with him, if not with anyone else.”

“Just because he thinks he owes me something doesn’t make him my friend,” Tommy reached forward to push Schlatt away, but the ghost just floated out of reach.

“So he doesn’t owe you something?” Schlatt asked, in a way that made Tommy feel like the ghost knew something he didn’t.

“No! He doesn’t!” Tommy snapped. “What I did— I’d do that for anyone, anyone who treated me like a decent human being and not some royal fuck up like everyone else sees me! If he knew that he didn’t owe me anything, he’d leave just like everyone else.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“What?”

“I said,” Schlatt sounded annoyed. “Why don’t you get down from this fuckin’ tower and go ask him?”

“He’s in L’manburg—”

“I know for a fact that even after I banished you, you visited Manburg. What’s different now?”

“Back then I didn’t have to worry about Dream killing me if I went back,” Tommy snapped.

“I thought that’s why you were up here, to die.”

“Not by Dream’s hands.”

“Who’s to say you jumping off this tower won’t be by Dream’s hands?”

“BECAUSE I’M CHOOSING IT!” Tommy screamed, anger and despair flooding through him. “I’M CHOOSING THIS! DREAM’S NOT PUSHING ME OFF! I’M JUMPING OF MY OWN ACCORD!”

“AND WHO PUSHED YOU TO DOIN’ THIS, HUH?” Schlatt shouted back, but there wasn’t anger in his voice, just triumph, for some reason.

Tommy flinched, cowering once more as old words echoed in his ears. Words that had been said in that very same tone ~~to revoke the citizenship of Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit—~~

“Make no mistake, kid,” Schlatt said, floating in circles around the tower at this point, making Tommy feel like he was being circled by a shark in the water. “You jumping off won’t fix a damn thing. You’ll still be dying because of Dream, even if he wasn’t the one to physically push you off this tower.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Tommy said croakily, ducking his head and looking away. A part of himself was furious that he was being so weak, for showing submission to SCHLATT of all people. But the instinct to just submit, to do as he was told, was too strong. Another effect of Dream’s fucking manipulation. He was aware of it, but he couldn’t fight it. “I’m not STRONG enough, Schlatt. I can’t even fucking trust myself to make the right decision because of what he did.”

Schlatt stayed silent as a hysterical laugh bubbled from Tommy’s chest. Tommy wiped his eyes with his sleeve and he just laughed, brokenly.

“I’m fucking cowering, to you, to a person I hate so much, to a person I fought against, to a fucking ghost. I can’t stop, I want to. I’m weak, Schlatt. I can’t fight this. I can’t.”

“You’re giving up.”

“Because I can’t do anything else. I can’t fight this. How am I supposed to fight this? How am I supposed to keep going? What. Am. I. Supposed. To. Do?” Tommy let out a noise that was halfway between a sob and a laugh, eyes trained on the ground that was so so so far beneath his feet.

Schlatt didn’t respond, and Tommy didn’t look up to see why.

Then, a hand found its way to Tommy’s face, followed by another on the other side, cradling his head gently. The hands were cold, they were fucking freezing, but it was the first contact Tommy had had with someone who didn’t have malicious intent for ages.

Well, knowing Schlatt, it could be malicious, but he was too busy leaning into the touch to worry about that.

Dream would do this too, but his touches always turned violent. Dream would thread his hands through Tommy’s hair, softly for a moment, before yanking him around by it. Dream would cup his face for a moment, and then slam a fist into his stomach. Dream would press a hand between Tommy’s shoulder blades comfortingly one second, but then would be burning him with the blade of his fire aspect sword in the next.

Schlatt, though, didn’t do anything other than just cradle Tommy’s head, floating forward until Tommy was leaning against the ghost’s chest. The sweater Schlatt was wearing was soft, and it tickled slightly. He smelled faintly of alcohol, but it was almost drowned out by the scent of grass and apples and cinnamon.

Tommy wasn’t clingy. He wasn’t. He WAS suspicious of Schlatt touching him, but it was comforting. Just like how he knew that pain would follow every time Dream touched him, but he still found comfort in the brief moments of physical touch, even if it was with someone who was hurting him.

“Listen,” Schlatt said, sounding uncomfortable but not letting go of Tommy. “I’m not good with sappy shit. I can really only tell you this, kind of like an advice thing. I want you to promise that you’ll actually take it, and not just nod like you took the advice and then jump.”

Tommy didn’t respond, staring at the slightly transparent blue sweater that was pressed up against his face.

Schlatt pulled away, not letting go, but forcing Tommy to look up at him.

He looked so young, Tommy realized. Sure, they had joked about Schlatt being a senile old man, but he’d only been twenty-one when he died.

21.

“When you get down from here safely,” Schlatt said, and Tommy noticed how the ghost used “when” instead of “if”. “The next time you see Dream, you go up to that green pissbaby and you spit on his fucking mask, you hear me? You tell him to go fuck himself. Don’t let him control you, Tommy. You take your own life by the reigns, and you go get some fucking revenge, no matter what bridges you burn in the process, do you understand?”

Tommy blinked, and Schlatt continued.

“If you need to go get help in order to do that, you go get some help. But you don’t let what Dream did to you— what Dream holds over you— don’t let him control you. Because Tommy, he’s scared of you.”

“Of me?” Tommy asked croakily.

“Of you,” Schlatt confirmed. “You’re the only one who goes against him. You’re the only one who outright defies him and doesn’t worry about what he’ll do to you. Just look at yourself. You built all the way up here because you thought you could spite him by dying on your own terms. He WANTS you to die, Tommy. He wants you out of his way. So don’t do what he wants, Tommy. You get down from this tower, you stand tall, and you tell that wannabe god to go fuck himself.”

Tommy scoffed, though it sounded slightly more like a laugh than a scoff. He peeled Schlatt’s hands off of him and stood up, listening to the wind howl and feeling the tower shake unsteadily underneath his feet.

And he jumped.

He heard Schlatt shout in alarm, but it was torn away quickly by the air howling past Tommy.

He just laughed to himself, angling his body towards the ocean, and relished in the feeling of falling, even though he knew he was going to survive. Despite the ground rushing up to meet him, if he closed his eyes, it felt like he was flying.

Tommy hit the water with a splash, sinking deep beneath the waves until he felt his back hit sand. Despite the sting he knew would follow, he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings, watching previously startled fish swim back to whatever they had been doing before he’d crashed into the sea.

For a long moment, he was tempted to just stay and let the sea take him wherever it pleased. To let his heart stop and his lungs fill with saltwater.

But he fought it off.

Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe he was strong enough.

With a closed-lip smile, Tommy swam for the surface, taking a large gulp of air as he broke through. He treaded water for a moment, before swimming to shore and pulling himself onto the beach, soaked.

“Way to give a guy a heart attack,” Schlatt clutched at his chest dramatically. “Again, might I add.”

“Dickhead,” Tommy stuck out his tongue at the ghost as he squeezed water out of his shirt and hair.

The tower had fallen with him, it seemed. In the opposite direction of the ocean that he’d jumped towards. Whatever.

“Hey Schlatt?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” he said, his gratitude genuine.

Schlatt grinned at him, a slightly sad look on his face. “No, Tommy,” he said, and Tommy noticed how Schlatt’s form was flickering and becoming more transparent.His previously gray skin was gaining color once more. “Thank you.”

Tommy’s hand reached out to grasp at Schlatt just as the ghost disappeared, his fingers sailing through empty space.

He was alone.

Tommy stared at the space where Schlatt had been for several minutes after the ghost’s disappearance. He debated whether his subconscious made the whole encounter up, as a last ditch effort to save his life.

But he recalled cold fingers and honest words and decided that no, it had been real, at least to him.

So he stood tall, newly found anger shining in gray eyes.

Tommy had a wannabe god that he needed to have a few choice words with.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @Rose12610  
> Tumblr: @alwaysananxiousmess
> 
> This one’s been in my drafts for a little while, and I finally got around to finishing it tonight. 
> 
> Somewhat of an open ending, I think. Because I’m leaving it up to y’all’s interpretation whether Schlatt was real or if Tommy just made him up. Either way, I really like this one. Hope y’all do to.
> 
> Happy New Year! Here’s to 2021 being less shit then 2020 was. I still have about two and a half hours to go in 2020 as of posting this. Hope those of you who are currently in the future are having a good 2021. Can’t wait to join y’all.


End file.
